


your eyes close with my dreams

by asiren (meliorismo)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Post-Season/Series 02 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 23:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12736845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meliorismo/pseuds/asiren
Summary: during clarke's race against her sins, lexa shows up to tell the truth and set them free.





	your eyes close with my dreams

**Author's Note:**

> i didnt really revise this. sorry

_I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,_

_except in this form in which I am not nor are you,_

_so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,_

_so close that your eyes close with my dreams._

— pablo neruda

**I.**

Lexa is sitting right in front of the bonfire, as silent and as stoic as a statue, for at least five minutes before you speak for the first time. It's blunt and tired, because you're haunting this forest long enough — maybe six days —, and never had much use for your voice between all those plants and birds. It's also so very low that the wind almost carries your words away; you almost wish it were true. You don't really know if you're ready to speak to her (and who could judge you?). Lexa listened to you, though. She always does, every time but the one that matters.

"I want you to leave", is what you say to her. The very first thing, a week after her betrayal. It's still way more than anything she deserves, you're sure of that. (And if Lexa herself is a judge, then yes, you're right. You don't know it yet, but to her you're always right, every time but the one that matters).

"I came here because you're killing yourself.", it's what she says, without turning her back. You want to know how all the front part of her body isn't catching fire, since she is sitting so close to the bonfire, trying to avoid your eyes. You end up with the conclusion that Lexa just breaks the laws of physics as she pleases, which could be impossible, but who are you to say? If someone asked you one week before, _what is the world's biggest impossibility?_ you would had answer _Lexa leaving me_.

Your answer is the one of a petulant child — "Do you care?" —; you know it, and you know it very well, but you can't bite your tongue. You let them roll out of your mouth, real and angry in the air. You let them because they are true. And everyone always said to you that the truth must be told.

(you just want to hurt her, any way that counts. because you're in hell, and everything around you is fire, so who the hell does she thinks she is to just walk away from you?)

Lexa doesn't say anything back, which don't surprise you the least. You can't count on just two hands all the times she has used the silence as a way to kill a fight, a conversation, a discussion before it even started; this time, though, what she doesn't see, doesn't understand, is that she can't walk away anymore. Not after what you two had done, all the people that died. This time, the silence is heavy with blood, betrayal and death.

(and _radiation_ )

**II.**

You hide behind a tree, watching Lexa hunt your dinner. In a hand, you feel shit about being unable to do that yourself (at the Ark, the food were always prepared somewhere else, away from you, arriving ready on a plastic plate; at the ship, when all of you landed on Earth, someone that were better skilled at killing animals would take this job from you, and you never thought of protesting, because yeah, you couldn't do _that_ , but you could do a lot of other urgent things, so whatever. After the rest of the Ark fell, things were even more compartmentalized — and the possibility that you should fed yourself became more and more improbable. Since you ran to the forest, though, you had been surviving over rots with suspicious looks); in other hand, really, all you think is _It’s the real bare minimum of what she owns me._

She left you, and your people, everyone to die, die, die, with nothing more than a small, meaningless _I'm sorry, may we meet again_ , etc., and the bitterness and the anger in your throat didn't dissolve itself in forgiveness and acceptance like you feared it would. When you went away, leaving Camp Jaha behind, hoping to outrun your sins, forgiving Lexa was your biggest fear. Because you knew she would show up eventually. Maybe it would take a day, or a week, or a month, but she would show up. And you were so very afraid of losing your anger, the very only thing that stayed with you after what you did. The only constant. Anger and guilt. Anger and sadness. Anger and hurt.

The leaves scratch your face and reopen your bruises — because worried that she could she you, you ended up hiding behind the world's most inconvenient bush —, but you don't move. Truth be told, you maybe don't even do as much as blink. You just stay there, immobile, torn apart between wishing for her to smile and wishing for her to die.

 

**III.**

"How did you know I was here?", you ask her during the second night. The silence is becoming too much for you to bear. She is laying two feet away from you, far away enough to maintain the illusion of distance, but close enough to keep an eye on you. The bonfire shines weakly — dying —, warming your back.

She stays quiet for a long while. So much that you could maybe convince yourself that she didn't hear you, if only she weren't so close; so much that you could believe her to be sleeping, if only she weren't so tense. "I didn't know", is what she answers you, at last, after you had already given up on waiting and was turning to be closer to the fire.

"So how did you find me?" you ask, so very soft, almost afraid of her answer. Almost afraid to break.

"I searched." she says, and then nothing else.

 

**IV.**

"I wish you were dead." You say to her on a hot afternoon, all the while peeling off something that looks, kind of, like a potato. Lexa is cleaning a fish close to you, her left arm touching your right arm every time she moves the knife of hand. "When you left me there at that mountain", you add, as if you could be talking about anything else, "I really wished you were dead."

"Only wished?", she asks, very neutrally.

"I still wish." you answer her, without stopping your work. "Sometimes." (long pause). "But now I see, it's not about you at all. Maybe it was, at the first few seconds after you left me there to die, but not a single minute ever since. After what I did—" you sigh, putting the could-be-potato on the ground. "After what I did, it was really about me. And about what I had to do. Over three hundred people, including women, children, allies. I killed all of them. Every single one. Women, children, allies. All of them. After what I did, I couldn't breathe anymore. The air was heavy with radiation. Heavy with the smell of death. You know the one. Then, I hated you. Because it was easy. Because, if you hadn't left me there, to die alone, maybe I wouldn't have done that. Maybe I wouldn't—"

You don't say anything for a long while. So much, you could always believe to have never said anything at all.

Beside you, Lexa opens and closes her hand, almost like she wished she could touch you.

"Now I'm the monster", you add, very small. "And that's why I hate you."

"I'm sorry", she answers you, softly. One by one, the words break in front of you. "I never wanted it to happen."

"What did you think that would happen?" you ask her, very angry, the part of you that want to slap her in the face roaring, roaring, roaring. You already know her answer; you have always known. In your heart you already made peace with it, right at that moment where she said goodbye.

"I thought you would just... _die_."

 

**V.**

You two are lying close to each other, your face almost touching her face, and the wuthering of the wind is the only sound in the air. You're both in silence, yes, but it's the kind of quiet that is born after everything is said and done; after your wish to yell at someone dies of a sudden death. It's very uncomfortable, because you don't really know what expression your face should be doing, so you just settle for blank. For a small, quiet second, the events at the mountain look like that if they are not forgivable, then they are at least understandable.

(how long can last a moment?)

"I have to go back home." you say to Lexa, but all she does is shaking her head. Touch your wrist with her fingers, very quiet, not saying a single word, frowning eyebrows with everything she doesn't want to tell you about. _We could hide here. We could stay here, if not forever, then at least for a little longer._ "The sun is almost rising", you add, because there is really no reason to wish for something that could never be true. Lexa has a nation to command, and you, with a little bit of luck, have a home waiting for you. Lexa and you, both of you, it's getting late — the clock is ticking, and the bubble is already so fragile.

"They don't need you there." she say to you, but it's resigned. Almost like she was steeling herself to get up right there, in that same second, and to go get the horses. You smile.

"I know. But your people need you, and my ass hurts after all this sleeping-in-the-forest-floor business."

"Do you really want to go back?" _You don't need to._

"No. But I have to. I really do."

"Duty." she mutters.

"And honor."

"Every single time."

 

**VI.**

Lexa helps you up your horse, carefully, as if she was afraid you could break at the smallest movement. You both very clean, smelling like some kind of soap that the grounders like to use for showering. It smells nice.

You think about asking, _will we meet again?,_ but the words stay in your mouth. You aren't sure that you want to hear the answer. Not because you're afraid that it could be _No_ , but because it's more probable that it'd be something like _sure thing, at the next time we are making war against each other._

You incline, your lips touching hers for the smallest second, so soft it could have been the wind; so soft it could have been a dream.

"I'll miss you", it's what you say to her, because the time for I love you has come and went, and all that’s left is sadness in its place. It's what you say, because you already had her under your fingers, and you already lost her, and you don't know if you will ever have her again. You know this one goodbye could be like all the others goodbye you two already shared.

"Take care, Clarke", she answers you, her lips rising to the quietest smile. You think that an evolution. Last time she left you, were not a single smile in sight. She turns, rising to her own horse, and then— stops. She looks at you, for a long minute.

And then, she walks away.


End file.
